


'i want everything.'

by notjustmom



Series: "You remember too much..." [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Happy Ending, M/M, No Mary, Pre-TEH, angsty bits, early return, fluffy bits because I can't help it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 19:01:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13371117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Sherlock is summoned home early from his time away... (aka Mycroft is just a big softie)





	1. Chapter 1

"Brother, mine."

"No."

"He's alive."

"You wouldn't risk calling me if you had good news." For a moment his Midwestern drawl slipped as he growled into his phone.

"There was an accident. He was - he was in a taxi..."

"Seriously?"

"It's time to come home."

"I'm not done."

"Brother, mine. You are needed elsewhere."

"But...."

"There is an agent standing ten feet from you, she will fly you home. He needs you."

 

Sherlock leaned his head back against the soft cushion and closed his eyes; he honestly couldn't remember the last time he slept, or thought about sleeping.

 

"Sir." The pilot was standing in front of him, but not close enough to touch him, she must have been warned he didn't do well with being touched. "You're home."

Home. He peered through the window. Night, and yet, the sky was bright grey - he shivered involuntarily. It was beginning to snow. "What day is it?"

"Sir?"

"The date? Today's date." 

"February 12, Sir. You will be taken to a safe house where you can rest."

"No. I will be taken to him. Now."

"Sir."

 

"Blond doesn't suit you, brother mine." Mycroft's voice suddenly appeared at his ear. Sherlock shrugged and kept his eyes forward, trying his best to ignore his brother. 

"Needs must."

"You should -"

"NO. I'm here because you fucked up. You were supposed to keep him safe until I could get back. You don't get to tell me -"

"It was an accident, Sherlock. Another car sideswiped the taxi he was in -"

"He wasn't using taxis anymore - you said."

"Tube strike." Mycroft sighed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and groaned as he slowly pushed himself away from the wall that had been holding him up.

"Sherlock."

"NOW." He spun to face his brother and Mycroft saw the look in his brother's eyes for the first time and knew he had made the right call. Someone else would finish the work, Sherlock was done. "Brother mine."

"Myc, please."

Mycroft nodded, and caught Sherlock in his arms as he nearly crumpled to the floor. "Sherlock."

"Myc. I just need to see him, and if you put a bed in his room, which I'm sure you already have -" 

Mycroft snorted and half-carried Sherlock down the hall to John's room.

"No guards?"

"He is well protected, as are you. You are safe, Sherlock."

"You've never lied to me, Mycroft, don't start now. You know we aren't safe until this is all over and even then -" he stopped as he pressed his face against the window, and saw John Watson for the first time in a year and a half. "Myc?"

"I know. It looks worse than it really is, they assure me he should be waking up -"

"How long, Myc?" Sherlock turned and searched his brother's face. "Myc?"

"Almost two months."

"Two months."

"They - the doctors tell me - there's no reason that he should still - it's as if -"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. "As if?"

Mycroft's voice dropped to a hush. "He doesn't want to wake up."

Sherlock shook his head, turned on his heel and walked into John's room, and dropped into the chair next to his bed. "We have terrible luck with taxis it seems." Sherlock sighed as his hand shook as he reached out to take John's hand and wondered at how small it seemed, perhaps because it was still, John was rarely still, and now - how small John seemed in the white sheets and hospital green blankets that he was wrapped in. In his mind, the John Watson he had carried with him the last eighteen months was so much more. To him, John had always been larger than - clichés? Only home an hour and you are slipping into convenient clichés. God, he was just so tired. He laid his head on the edge of the mattress and finally fell asleep, his hand lightly covering John's. Home. Finally home, John. I'm here.

 

"Coffee."

He turned at the sound of Greg's voice. "Greg."

"Ah. You remember. You know - blond really isn't -"

"Yeah, so I've been told. I - I'm -sorry."

Greg put the cup of coffee into Sherlock's hand and gently wrapped his other hand around it. "It's the good stuff. Assumed you still took a bit of sugar - Mycroft explained everything when John was hurt. I've had time to process it a bit. Might be harder to explain it to him -" Greg nodded at John and shrugged. "He might wake up just so he can punch you. You know -" Greg looked at his friend and shook his head. "You don't know."

"What?"

"God, fer a genius -"

"Greg, please?"

"He mourned you - like he had lost a spouse."

"Wha -?"

"You honestly didn't know he loved you?"

Greg managed to grab Sherlock before he slid to the floor. The coffee wasn't so lucky.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Sherlock -" Greg kept his voice soft as Sherlock opened his eyes and shrunk away from him. "You're home. Do you remember?"

"When - what?"

"It's February 13 -"

"What year?"

"What -" Greg tried to keep his face as neutral as possible, but he knew he had failed when he found Sherlock gently smiling at him.

"Please, just what year is it."

"2014."

"A year and a half, Greg, and I - failed -"

"Sherlock -" Greg shook his head.

"I failed to recognise how he - that he felt anything for me, in that way. If I had - I would have tried to find another way." Sherlock sat up carefully and winced as he ruffled his hair, then slid off the bed Greg had moved him to after he collapsed. "I know everyone - I saw it in your eyes - how everyone treated him. He couldn't possibly just stay with me because he was my frie - my only friend. I missed it, Greg. He always had dates, of course I always interrupted them, or tried to - he never brought any of them home. Bloody hell, Greg." He made his way over to John's bed and sat down in the chair. He pulled his knees up to his chin and closed his eyes, not moving until the new shift nurse came in to check on John.

Sherlock opened his eyes and got to his feet. "Anything I can do - I'm not - quite sure. I'm -"

The nurse looked him over for a moment, then her eyes flew open wide in recognition. "But you're supposed to be - you're dead - sorry. The hair colour threw me off for a minute, it doesn't really -"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, doesn't suit. I know. That was the point, wasn't it? I couldn't look like myself. Guess I succeeded. How can I help him? I'm not good at doing nothing -"

She looked at John, then back at Sherlock and cleared her throat. "I was here - when they brought him in - he was - still conscious then, searching for you, your name was the last word he said. I know I shouldn't say anything - but it was as if he expected to see you here."

Greg met Sherlock's eyes and nodded. "I was - he was on his way to a crime scene, he helped us out when he wasn't working - he was right behind us - I was there when - he was thinking of you, Sherlock when - sorry, mate, I - look, I've got my guys at the door, Myc has his guys around - you two are safe - I'll check back later. I am glad you're back, Sherlock. I've missed you, we've all missed you. I'll be back with some decent dinner later, yeah?"

The nurse gave Sherlock a curious glance. "You aren't so shipshape yourself, love."

Sherlock shrugged. "I need to know how to help him. I'm not important."

She rolled her eyes at him and put her hands on her hips. "You are important - were important to him. Talk to him, tell him whatever you want to - just let him know that you are here for him. I knew, all of us who read his blog could tell how he felt about you - all you had to do was read between the lines a bit."

"You read his blog?"

"Never missed it. This city - if I might say - hasn't been the same without you, Mr. Holmes."

"Sherlock - my brother - my brother is Mr. Holmes." He offered her a shaky hand and she held it lightly, then took his pulse and sighed.

"Sherlock - right now, what you need is a cuppa and a rest, but at least, give yerself a break and talk to him. I'll bring you that cuppa when I get a break."

"Thank you - ?"

"Constance. I'm Constance, Sherlock."

"Constance. Thank you." Sherlock watched her close the door quietly behind her - nodding towards John as she left.

"So. I'm supposed to talk to you. Funny thing, I should know what to say to you, but I don't have a clue. I thought I'd know, what I'd say to you when I saw you again... I should wait to apologise when you are awake, otherwise, I don't think it will count. Right." He picked up John's hand again and held it against his face. "I'm so very sorry, John."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * From 'The Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson;' 29th January.

"...It's mad. I think he might be mad. He was certainly arrogant and really quite rude and he looks about 12 and he's clearly a bit public school and, yes, I definitely think he might be mad but he was also strangely likeable. He was charming. It really was all just a bit strange...."* Sherlock looked up to find Molly watching him from the door and he narrowed at his eyes at her. "If you say one bloody word about my hair..."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Greg texted me and asked me to get you some dinner. Angelo remembered you liked the angel hair when you weren't feeling yourself, and there's a bit of tiramisu - he said to bring John in when he was up and around."

"Thanks, sorry. I - would've come to see you - but..."

"Reading him the blog is a good idea."

"I've never actually read the whole thing - it seems so long ago, Molly." He watched as she put the paper bag on the table and walked over to sit in the chair opposite him. "What if -?"

Molly whispered, "what if he never wakes up?"

Sherlock bit his lip, and nodded, shaking his head as he felt the tears start from somewhere. "Did you know?"

"What?"

"How he felt about me?"

"He never said anything to me, if that's what you mean. But, yeah, Sherlock, course I knew. I also knew the minute you laid eyes on him - I didn't have a chance -"

"Molly."

"No, I mean, I - you seemed to tolerate me, which was more than - I didn't know for sure, until that day - you flirted with him. I didn't know you even knew how, just needed the right person - and then, I settled - no, that's not the right word. I have always been lucky that you considered me your friend, Sherlock. Make sure you eat some dinner, and rest, you aren't going to do him any good if you don't get some sleep." She looked at him and shook her head as he avoided her eyes. "Nightmares?"

"Yeah. I promise I'll eat. Thanks, Molly. For everything."

"Just -" Molly bit her lip, then quietly left the room.

Sherlock nodded and went back to reading aloud. "So tomorrow, we're off to look at a flat. Me and the madman. Me and Sherlock Holmes."* "Mad man, hmm? Yeah, I guess I was then, still am, I suppose. But you never cared, did you, not real - John?" Sherlock stopped talking as he thought he felt John squeeze his fingers. "John. Do it again, please? Squeeze my fingers? John."

"Son-of-a-bitch. Bloody hell - what happened to your hair?" John blinked at him and closed his eyes again. "It is you. Really you? Please tell me I'm not hallucinating, because that would be a bit not good."

"Shh." Sherlock reached over to push the call button. "No. I'm sorry, please, I didn't mean to - you're not hallucinating, I -"

"Kiss me, please, before they all -"

Sherlock started then leaned down and gently brushed John's lips with his own. "I'm sorry, John, I'm so sorry." And then he sensed Constance behind him, trying to pull him away from John's side. "Constance, don't, please don't, let me stay."

"Let us help him get more comfortable, you can stay in the room, just let us do what we need to do, okay? We need to do some tests - you know the drill, Sherlock. Just give us room, to help him."

He nodded and moved to the corner of the room, but made sure he could still make eye contact with him, could see him rolling his eyes, and mumbling responses, to the staff. He sounded remarkably like the man he had left behind, he was still John. And then he watched as John met his eyes and smiled - a smile he hadn't seen before, and he slid to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

John picked at invisible threads on the blanket that once again covered him, then looked up at Sherlock and cleared his throat quietly. "So. You, being back. Is this a temporary reprieve? Are you going to leave me again? You're not going to disappear again once I go back to sleep?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I'm finished - no, it's not over yet, but I'm done. Someone else is - but do you - I mean -?"

"I just need to know why."

"Why? He threatened you. And Mrs. Hudson. And Greg. I - didn't have a choice - we had a contingency plan, if it came to it, I just had hoped, I thought I had a chance to go home to Baker Street, to you. I never wanted to leave you, John. And I never understood - you never said, how you felt about me, I didn't know, John."

"Would it have made a difference?" John yawned and covered his mouth, as he slid down under the blanket.

"Of course it would have - don't you know?"

"Sorry, you'd think I had enough time to sleep - will you, stay, with me?" John reached for Sherlock's hand and held it gently in both of his. "I wish I had told you, I was afraid to - lose - everythinnng -"

"John."

"It's okay, Sherlock, he still needs his rest, and so do you." He turned and saw Constance smiling at him. "Climb into your bed, and I'll push you close enough to hold his hand, as long as you promise to sleep, hmmm? Tomorrow's a big day."

"Tomorrow?"

Constance rolled her eyes. "Tomorrow is Valentine's Day... I forgot, John was the romantic one."

"Valentine's Day is just -" Sherlock began, but knew she wouldn't buy it. "If my brother is around lurking in the hallway, can you ask him to step in here for a moment. Please?"

Constance nodded then smiled at him. "What?"

"You're much nicer than I thought you'd be."

Sherlock considered how to respond to her, how he would have responded before - and how John would want him to be. "Thank you, Constance, he was kinder to me in his blog than I deserved, honestly - I -"

"Well, I think you're sweet. I'll get your brother, he hasn't left since you've been here."

 

"Sherlock."

"Myc, it's Valentine's Day tomorrow. Don't roll your eyes. I need you to - please, Myc."

Mycroft sighed, and seated himself in the chair next to Sherlock's bed. "What can I do, Sherlock?"

"He - uhm - likes Bond movies, and that - mostly dead movie -"

"Don't you think he's had enough of mostly dead for a while, Sherlock?"

"Right. Good point. Flowers? I can't remember that he likes flowers though - we could never keep a plant alive in the flat."

"I do believe there is a football match on tomorrow, and as I recall, he did share your fondness for those chocolate biscuirs. Perhaps... balloons? Those will brighten this room considerably. I will take care of it, brother mine. Just rest, then tomorrow, we'll deal with -"

"Thank you, Myc."

"Just happy to have you home, brother mine." Mycroft was about to stand when Sherlock reached out for his hand.

"Stay, please, Myc."

"Of course, Sherlock." He took Sherlock's hand in his, settled back into the chair, and watched as Sherlock fell asleep.

"Mycroft?"

"Yes, John."

"Thank you, for bringing him home. You didn't have to -"

"Yes, John. I did. Rest. He's going to need you as much as you need him right now."

"I know, Mycroft. I promise, I won't let him down."

"I know, John. I have no doubts."

 

Need a dozen balloons, a good sized flat screen telly and the best chocolate biscuits Mrs. H can bake by tomorrow - M

Sir? - A

For John, it is Valentine's Day tomorrow, Anthea. - M

Of course, Sir. - A


	5. Chapter 5

"You're still here." John whispered hoarsely as he opened his eyes.

Sherlock nodded. "I told you I would be."

"You've never told me a lie... technically... well, except for that one time you told me you'd get milk."

Sherlock grinned at him. "Still gonna hold that against me."

John searched his face and said quietly, "I'm here, Sherlock. I know - you had a tough time when you were away. I can see it in your eyes. I don't expect you to be - I mean - I loved you as you were before, and I still love you as you are, now."

"I don't know who I am any more, John - I don't expect you to -"

"I love you, Sherlock. I was afraid, before, I didn't think you could ever feel - ever want -"

Sherlock sat up carefully and cleared his throat. "What do you want, John? From me?"

John took a deep breath, then let it go, slowly, and met Sherlock's gaze. "I want everything, Sherlock, everything, from you. And I want to give you everything, if you want it - I'm not afraid to tell you any longer. For too long - I've worried about what other people would think, but I've finally realized that people would think what they think regardless of what the truth is. Truth is, I've loved you from the beginning. And to be honest, it scared me. I didn't think you could ever - so - I - accepted that being your friend would have to be enough. And it was, Sherlock, it was. But - now..."

 

"Yooohoooo.... boys..." Mrs. Hudson walked into their room with a box and a dozen balloons. "Oh dear - I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

John snorted. "No, Mrs. H. You didn't interrupt anything."

"Good. Now, Sherlock, your brother - over a piece of cake -"

"Naturally..." Sherlock winked at John who grinned at him, and threaded their fingers together.

"Over a piece of cake - behave, you two. He explained everything. So, I made those chocolate biscuits, and when I got here, there was this lovely bunch of balloons at the nurse's station, they said it was for your room, John, so - I - you have no idea how happy I am to see you two happy finally. You are happy - right - and you've told each other - "

"Yes, Mrs. H. No longer idiots."

"Good. Now, I'll leave you to it - tea is coming, and Mycroft said something about a football match later today -" She kissed Sherlock's hair without saying a word, then walked over to John and kissed his cheek, then rubbed the lipstick smudge from his cheek, and walked to the door. "Baker Street was too quiet without you two. I promise I won't dust, just straighten up a bit - I'm still not -"

"Our housekeeper," Sherlock and John whispered as they glanced at each other and John laid a steady hand on Sherlock's jaw, then kissed him gently.

"I want everything, John. For you, with you, just you, John. Only you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one last bit...

"Finally."

Sherlock's eyes twinkled at him, as he toweled off his curls, now back to their naturally darker shade. 

"I told you it would grow out eventually."

"I know, I just missed - you."

"Yeah?"

John got up from their bed and stood in front of him. "You know, I'd love you no matter what colour your hair happened to be, don't you?"

Sherlock nodded at him, and dropped his towel, earning him an eyeroll and a single deep kiss. He wrapped his arms around John gently, and held him as he buried his nose in his hair. "Yes, John. I do know."


End file.
